


Busy Hands

by orphan_account



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M, Public Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 11:20:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6282550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU wherein Optimus and Megatron are at a lunch during a meeting and start getting frisky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Busy Hands

**Author's Note:**

> First time I’ve written Optimus in a NSFW thing >.> it’s really hard because I just imagine Peter Cullen.   
> Anyway, have some OOC (probably) smut in a wonderful AU where they happen to be at a board meeting together.

A complimentary meal was provided during recess. The boardroom had been packed, but the promise of free fuel had apparently lured even more vultures out of the shadows. Politics: Megatron found it as tedious now as he did before the war. Optimus Prime on the other hand, was gleefully lapping up the attention. Prime would forever be an insufferable bookworm in Megatron’s eyes, and yet, at this dreary event Megatron wouldn’t be seen sitting by anyone else, and that stirred quite a commotion behind the scenes, or so Optimus had informed him.

A waiter on wheels had just delivered a bowl of swill in front the table guests. Megatron was informed that the steaming-hot goop was in fact _soup_. He glowered at it, and at the pompous ‘well-educated’ gentry present in the room, who had probably afforded this three-course meal by dipping into the taxpayer’s money.

Megatron remained sullen and silent. No one wanted to speak to him, his presence at the dinner table was indeed very dark and intimidating, but after a while attentions turned to matters that had been previously discussed in the boardroom and nobody want to hear Megatron’s opinion on that.

He’d just started stirring his soup when Megatron felt Prime’s knuckles graze his thigh. At first, Megatron had dismissed the contact, Prime was in an animated discussion with the gaudy-coloured mech seated next to him. The second incident could have also been declared as _accidental,_ but Prime’s third attempt to gain Megatron’s attention was more bold, impossible to ignore. Optimus Prime set his hand directed into Megatron’s lap…and _squeezed._

The spoon brimming with soup hovered. Bent towards the table, Megatron waited to see what Optimus would do next.

It began like a dare game. Prime gingerly stroked Megatron’s abdomen and Megatron sat back, confident that Prime would lose his nerve. But Optimus didn’t. His hand travelled lower and lower, slowly, but confidently. Optimus Prime deliberately antagonised Megatron until Megatron became uncomfortable and started to shift.

“Prime…” he grumbled. Megatron wore the heat of embarrassment around his neck. Prime’s fingers were at Megatron’s waistband.

After a fleeting glance, Megatron saw the impishness shining in Optimus’s eyes and knew what to expect while still feeling unprepared.

When Prime’s hand smoothly slide between Megatron’s thighs Megatron stiffened. Prime brushed the full swell of Megatron’s legs teasingly then glided upward and nestled his hands against the warmth of Megatron’s groin, cupping his interface.

Megatron pressed his back against the chair and accidentally impressed his size on the room although the last thing he wanted was attention. He straightened, and pulled back from Prime’s hand slightly, but Prime made his intentions abundantly clear and plucked on the fatter cables in Megatron’s groin.

“ _Are you serious_?” Megatron hissed, prickles of conflict walked up his legs. Megatron scanned the table and if he made contact with one pair of eyes then the overriding embarrassment would force him to remove Prime’s hand immediately.

Even when their indecency remained safely undiscovered, Megatron was still uneasy. It wasn’t within the parameters of his personality to blush, as absurd as it was to imagine Megatron had also never encountered a situation where his control, his dominance had been robbed.

Prime was determined to tease out Megatron’s weaker character traits. The fearsome persona of a warlord had been evicted following the resolve of the war, which left Megatron undefended and open to suggestion.

He was unused to Prime being so assertive. In fact, it disturbed Megatron. Orion Pax was a submissive, naive but serious partner. Megatron wondered where throughout the course of the war had that innocence been perverted? Moreover, did Megatron like it?

His spark was tumbling in his chest. With a little hesitation, Megatron yielded to explore and indulge in Optimus’s games. With a slight tremble, Megatron eased his thighs apart and permitted Optimus Prime the room to manoeuvre.

 Optimus avoided Megatron, but Megatron glued his sights of Optimus’s face. He was aware of Prime’s dirty grin, and he watched it stretch into a smile as Megatron’s spike bloomed into Prime’s busy hand.

At first, Optimus was clumsy. His attempt to keep movement to a minimum was soon abandoned. He picked up his chair, shuffled over until he and Megatron were nearly shoulder to shoulder and then plunged back into Megatron’s lap.

It was difficult to breathe easy. Megatron dented the spoon handle. Optimus’s hands were huge and firm and tugged in long, hard strokes. But it was a distracted play, the din in the room didn’t seem to phase Optimus, although he did keep his head up and alert. Megatron suffered waves of heat, it choked him as much as the sounds he gargled at the back of his throat and with one interface outlet occupied it was impossible for his valve to go unaffected. Despite being ignored, inside his body pulsed needfully, squeezing around the emptiness and preparing itself. Megatron hung his head to hide the colour in his cheeks. He was too prideful to admit the raw attraction he experienced towards Optimus even as the evidence began to trickle out of him: sweet and pink.          

Megatron’s determination to hold himself completely rigid and smother every reaction was having an adverse affect. His legs were beginning to shake uncontrollably. Tremors bounced his strong thighs and there was nothing Megatron could do to stop it. He grit his teeth, stifled another grunt with a cough. All the while, Prime was wickedly aware of his effect and Megatron felt ashamed to rationalise the Prime’s self-satisfaction. But Megatron couldn’t help himself. His spike throbbed in Prime’s hand, and twitched whenever Prime paused no matter how briefly. Megatron’s body begged for attention against his wishes, he felt like a starved mech. Once the basic instinct in him took over, Megatron rocked his hips upward and he slid fluidly through Prime’s tightening fist.

“Oh,” Megatron couldn’t contain it, his teeth gnashed when Prime’s hand bumped the bottom of his shaft and then Megatron retreated back into the seat slowly, savouring the reverse pull on his spike. As his aft touched the seat, a hit of self-consciousness stabbed at him and Megatron’s eyes flashed open. He scanned the table quickly, no one was looking, no one was interested, could he do it again? Could he feel that good and get him away with it?

Prime’s hand paused, and Megatron stiffened, his spark was racing hard. Was that an invitation?

Megatron braced both hands to the edge of the table. He felt heavier, whether it was by added fuel sloshing in his tanks, or the weight of his exhilaration, Megatron struggled to peel his sticky aft off the seat and thrust into Optimus’s hand.

“Yes, Senator?”

Prime’s hand grasped Megatron’s spike tight, fixing Megatron to the chair. A mech from across the table was addressing Optimus Prime and Megatron froze. He could feel his pulse, so thick it drowned out the conversation Prime and the other Senator were holding. Prefluid overflowed at the tip of Megatron spike and burned a trail down his shaft. He imagined it trickling over Prime’s knuckles and Megatron’s hips squirmed automatically.

Prime felt the turns of Megatron’s spike as if it was being stirred in his fist. With a professional politeness, Prime kerbed the Senator’s interest in holding a conversation, but he did not affirm any solidarity between him and Megatron as Prime recommenced playing with Megatron’s spike. Prime remained utterly calm and spoon fed himself with his free hand, while beside him Megatron unravelled.

The lubricant seeping beneath Megatron’s aft was being spread even further by his restless sway. Though Megatron maintained in his mind that he was being discrete, he could feel his own wetness on his thighs. As his overload towered, discrete became a matter of opinion.

Using his spoon as a shield against the public, Prime’s lips pulled tight and he oozed smug feelings, Megatron was feverishly churning his hips into Prime’s hand and they both fed off the exhilaration.

“ _Prime!_ ” Megatron exhaled sharply and faced his soup. Optimus didn’t reply, but his hand worked faster and he leaned into Megatron more, pumping Megatron’s spike so hard and fast and recklessly that Prime’s fist hit the underside of the table and made their plates jump.

He reacted and slowed down and pressed his thumb over Megatron’s transfluid slit which was wet and sensitive. Megatron shuddered in Prime’s palm as heat and tension gripped his shoulders.

“Optimus, Sir.” Another question for Optimus Prime and Megatron had had his fill of teasing and playing. He reached down, grabbed Prime’s palm and rubbed it hard against his sticky spike so that Prime could feel every ridge and bump and biolight sticking into his hand. Megatron quietly huffed into his soup and continued to manipulate Prime’s hand as if it was his own by grinding his spike against Prime’s fingers,

It was as much the action as it was the concept of stealing power from Prime that brought Megatron teetering at the edge of overload. As if his centre of gravity was in his spike, the energon in Megatron throbbed behind his groin and pushed his overload out. A devastating crackle of energy fizzed through Megatron’s circuits.

With a gush of overwhelming feeling, Megatron groaned and spilled all over Prime’s hand. Another squirt of fluid hit the roof of the table. By the time his climax had ebbed, Megatron was boneless and slumped in his chair, panting hard and gently toying with his flaccid spike.

Prime glanced at Megatron from the corner of his eye, he watched Megatron’s barrel chest heave and fall like a bellows. Then Prime looked away, painted on a look of professionalism and cleared his throat.

Megatron felt Prime’s hand languorously stroke over his thigh as Prime slipped away,

“Anyway, as I was saying, Senator…” Prime brought his hand to his mouth, it stank of musk and Megatron and the silvery fluid clung to the back of Prime’s throat as he licked his fingers clean. The energy between them was thick and it was intoxicating. Megatron watched Optimus slyly lick transfluid off his hand and grinned savagely. The feast had proven to be not so dull after all.  


End file.
